CONSTANTINOPLE
I Leave Sofia--A Valuable Document--The Change in Adrianople--The
Bulgars in Possession--The Turk Determined to Fight--I Adopt the
Fez--War Pressure--The Fate of Enemy Subjects--A Way They Have in
Turkey--The Financial Situation--Enver Goes to Berlin--A Turkish
Girl Clerk--A Quick Change--A City of Darkness.
I stayed only a few days in Sofia, and soon continued my journey to
Constantinople. The train left about two in the morning, but as we
were told on the afternoon previous that the train would leave at 11
p.m. that night, we, my fellow passengers and I, were all there at the
railway station at 10 o’clock, and had to wait four hours in a nasty,
dirty-looking waiting room, filled with German soldiers and Bulgarian
soldiers and officers. It was uncomfortably warm in the room. Most of
the Germans were playing cards, and I was longing to get out into the
fresh air, but no one was allowed on to the platform.
My _laissez passer_ from the Bulgarian Minister at Vienna again proved
invaluable, and I found out to my great satisfaction that this paper
would serve me in many ways. As soon as I showed it to the Bulgarian
Commandant I was allowed on the platform. There I found myself, the
special correspondent of an English newspaper, allowed more privileges
than even German civil travellers--a thing that made me smile. Most of
the German soldiers were on the way to Constantinople and Asia Minor,
and some of them told me that they had not seen their homes since the
beginning of the war. They were not complaining, however, as they
seemed to be convinced that the victory would be theirs. They were
well-clothed, and looked well-fed also, and I did not notice any old
Landsturm men. We in this country are too often inclined to believe
that the German man supply is exhausted. The men they send to the
Balkans, however, have by no means the appearance of being the last of
the bunch; in fact, no one could wish for better soldiers, every one
of them being of excellent physique.
When I eventually left Sofia I was faced with a journey of twenty-four
hours, once more with carriage windows painted white; but this time
I had the good fortune to secure sleeping-car accommodation, and I
promptly turned in; there was nothing else to do. We were four in a
sleeping-car compartment. The man opposite to me was a German merchant
on his way to Asia Minor to buy wool, which, as is well known, is one
of the great products of Turkey. He seemed very tired, and did not
respond at all well to my efforts to engage him in conversation. Soon
he was snoring with such earnestness that I had considerable difficulty
in getting to sleep myself.
The next morning we arrived at Adrianople. What a change from the
Adrianople I had seen eight months before! There were no Turkish
soldiers, no Turkish flags, no Turkish lettering at the station.
Bulgarian soldiers were guarding the line, Bulgarian flags were flying
from the railway station, and Bulgarian letters indicated the name of
the place.
During the last few years the Holy City of the Turks has experienced
many vicissitudes. In the first Balkan War it was captured by the
Bulgars, aided by the Serbs. When difficulties arose between the
various members of the Balkan League, owing to the treacherous conduct
of Bulgaria, the Turks retook the town, but their reign was short, and
now they have surrendered it once more to the Bulgars. There was not a
single Turkish soldier to be seen at the railway station, and, to add
to the irony of the situation, the Turks have almost completed a fine
new railway station, which I suppose the Bulgars will presently take
over, allowing a minimum sum as compensation.
As soon as my train drew up at Adrianople, German soldiers rushed into
the different carriages to ask for German newspapers. While I was in
Constantinople I found that the only paper printed in English that was
allowed to be sold was _The Continental Times_, a German propagandist
journal with a very obvious purpose.
It should interest English readers to know that everywhere the Turks
regard themselves as fighting for their very existence. Such being
the case, the Allies must not deceive themselves as to the desperate
character of the resistance which the Turks will continue to offer. All
are convinced that war with the Allies was inevitable, for the reason
that Constantinople had been promised to Russia. A Turkish deputy
“friend” of mine was never tired of harping on this note.
At Lule Burgas there were further interrogations, and once more I
had to go through the ordeal of cross-examination, but thanks to the
personal letter I carried from the Turkish Ambassador in Vienna to
Halil Bey, the Turkish Minister for Foreign Affairs, my difficulties
were soon over. In fact, the officials were very polite, and wished me
a good journey.
Not only has Adrianople become merged in Bulgarian territory, but Lule
Burgas, the station beyond, has also passed into the possession of the
Bulgars. It was not until I was past Lule Burgas that I met the first
Turkish soldiers.
The impression I got of Turkey in Europe was that of a poor and
monotonous country; nowhere did I discover anyone cultivating the
soil, and, with the exception of the miserable little villages that
we passed, it was quite possible to imagine oneself in an uninhabited
country.
It was one o’clock in the morning when I reached Stamboul, the Turkish
part of Constantinople. I went direct to the Pera Palace Hotel, being
conveyed in an old carriage, the only one I found available. Not a
light of any description was to be seen, the town being in utter
darkness. The Pera Palace Hotel is well known to many Englishmen
as being the only good hotel in the place. It is now more than
ever expensive, prices having been greatly increased. I could live
cheaper at the Ritz Hotel in London than in the Pera Palace Hotel in
Constantinople. After a few hours’ sleep, I set out upon an exploration
of the city, which I knew from my previous visit. What a change!
My first precaution was to adopt the fez as a head covering. When in
Rome do as Rome does, is an excellent maxim, more particularly so in
war time. Over and over again I had noticed that some sort of uniform
is the best means of facilitating travel in a country occupied by
soldiery. In Constantinople the fez is almost an introduction. But of
the changes I noticed: bad food, bread-tickets, or rather bread-books,
the bread itself practically uneatable, the hotel swarming with German
officers grumbling bitterly at the fare, and all talking bombastically
of Egypt.
In Constantinople one realises the war pressure better than in any
other of the great capitals in the war zone that I have visited. The
dearth of the necessaries of life has become alarming. None the less
the Germans who swarm the streets, the Government offices, and the
railway trains see to it that they themselves are well fed and well
provided with every requisite. The more I saw of the German side of
the war, the more I realised that the care and attention of the entire
German people is being concentrated on the Army, that, while all the
other Government offices in Constantinople were shabby, as they have
always been, while electric light and gas light exist no longer, the
German-controlled War Office had been entirely redecorated inside and
out, and looks as spick and span as if it were in reality Prussian.
The defenceless subjects of the nations at present fighting the Turks
who are still in Constantinople have to suffer many indignities. It is
disheartening to describe. To my great satisfaction I found that nearly
all the English colony had left before hostilities broke out, but many
French and Belgians remained, also a number of Russians, who for some
reason or other stayed behind. They are in a deplorable condition.
Many of these people before the war belonged to the wealthy classes,
but at present they are poor and dependent. One Belgian with whom I
had become acquainted on my first visit, a very reliable and honest
business man, told me many interesting things.
When war broke out he was living with his wife and three children on
the Asia Minor coast, the other side of the Bosphorus, which must be
considered a suburb of Constantinople. Nearly every business man has
only his office in Constantinople, ninety per cent. of them living on
the Asia Minor coast, which is far more healthy, clean, and agreeable.
This Belgian possessed, besides the house in which he was living, four
other houses, and a farm some 20 miles inland. He was the owner of
a motor car, three carriages, two motor boats, and a number of cows
and horses. The houses he owned were requisitioned by the Turkish
Government for hospital purposes, and they used them for the worst
cases, such as cholera, the Plague, and other dreadful diseases.
My Belgian friend was compelled to leave the house in which he was
living, and seek refuge in a hotel in Constantinople. His own house
was stripped, everything being taken away; his beautiful collection of
rifles, pistols, pictures and furniture was stolen by the soldiers. His
horses, cows, and in fact everything he had was taken away, and not
even a requisition-bond handed to him. The Turks even appropriated his
balance at the bank.
In stripping a man of his possessions, the Turk shows a thoroughness
that would make a German green with envy. The Belgian has become a poor
man who can hardly find food for his children. If it were not for some
subjects of neutral countries, who had known him before the war, he and
his family would be actually starving. The American Ambassador, Mr.
Morgenthau, to whom was entrusted the care of these people, does not
seem to be able to render them much assistance. Not only the Belgian
of whom I have just spoken, but many others, complained to me that
whenever they went to the American Embassy when something had been
stolen from them by the Turks, they were put off with the assurance
that nothing could possibly be done for them.
In all probability the French and British warship commanders
were unaware of the Turkish method of dealing with the question
of compensating the Faithful whose property had been damaged by
bombardment. Whenever a house belonging to a Turk had been demolished
by the French or British shells the property of one of the subjects
of the enemy countries then living in Turkey was confiscated, and the
owner with his family sent to the interior of Asia Minor. All his
belongings were handed over to the Turk whose property had suffered
through the bombardment.
The financial situation in Turkey is of an alarming nature, I found to
my great delight. I myself had never been a real enemy of the Turks. I
considered them a simple, good-hearted race, and in many ways superior
to the inhabitants of the surrounding countries. What I found out
during my last visit has, however, entirely changed my opinion. In
many desirable ways they can claim the honour of equalling their German
masters, but in cruelty, barbarism, and utter unscrupulousness they
now excel even the Germans. No! I am no longer a friend of the Turks.
Especially am I no friend of their Government.
When eight months previously I was in Turkey, I was astonished at the
amount of gold that was in circulation. I had always heard that Turkey
was such a poor country, and I was greatly surprised, when I entered
a bank for the purpose of changing Austrian bank-notes, to find that
I could get as much gold in exchange as I wanted, and I was puzzled,
especially as that gold looked suspiciously new. I afterwards found
that it was part of the gold that Germany had lent, or given, to her
Turkish friend to get her to participate in the war. Gold had also been
given for the purpose of paying requisitions, which were many, for the
Turks as a result of the Balkan War had exhausted nearly all their war
material. I found out that many of those requisitions had, however,
not been paid. In fact, of the new war requisitions not one had been
paid, most of the gold having been peculated by the Turkish officials
in high places. The result was a bitter quarrel with the Germans,
which, however, had been kept secret.
For obvious reasons the Germans refused to send any more gold--they had
none themselves. Some months ago Enver Pasha went to Berlin to try and
settle the affair, and his mission seems to have been successful.
On this visit to Constantinople I found the financial situation
was critical. All the gold had disappeared, and, what is even more
significant, silver was hardly to be obtained either. This is due to
the fact that the new Treasury bonds recently issued by the Turkish
Government are refused in the interior of Turkey, which is where the
farms are situated. The Anatolian farmers promptly refused to accept
paper money in exchange for their products, and the Turkish merchants,
in order to purchase the harvest, etc., were compelled to pay the
farmers in silver money. The result is that there is hardly any silver
left in Constantinople, but there is any amount of it circulating in
the interior of Asia Minor.
The shortage of currency has paralysed the Turkish trade, and therefore
the Government had to think of something. Just a few days before I left
Constantinople I witnessed the appearance of the funniest paper money
I have ever seen. Just imagine the situation. In Turkey, on £1 notes
(the original value of a £1 note is about 17s. or 18s.), even at the
Government offices or State Railways, one has to lose about ten per
cent. in exchange. To meet the shortage of currency the Turks decided
it would be legal to cut a £1 note in half, so when I took my meal one
day in the Tokatlian Restaurant, in the Pera Street, I received my
change in this new fashion. It was a very odd sight to see a man get
his knife out of his pocket and cut the bank-note in half.
It has always been my desire to see a Turkish woman face to face,
unveiled, of course. They seem so mysterious with their covered
faces, and one imagines them much nicer than they really are, on
account of the mysterious way in which they go about. On my previous
visit I had not succeeded in seeing one; this time I was more lucky.
One day I entered the post-office in Stamboul, where no Europeans
live, and went to the Poste Restante box to find if there were any
letters for me. A young girl was answering my questions, and she
was a pretty Oriental-looking creature. At first I took her for one
of the innumerable Jewish or Grecian girls who are to be found in
Constantinople. She spoke the French language very well, and after
I had spoken for a few minutes I asked her if she were Grecian or
Armenian. She answered me at once, “No, I am a Mussulman girl.” “What!”
I exclaimed, “are you Turkish, _real_ Turkish?” “Yes, I am,” she said,
and then went on to tell me that during the last fortnight a few
Mahommedan young girls had entered the Government service, and she told
me that others were to follow. If all Turkish women are as charming as
she was, then a harem must be far more interesting than I thought it
could be.
Several times I had noticed black Turkish troops passing me in the
streets, men of the typical African negro type, and I could not
understand from what part of Turkey they had come. I soon found out,
however, that they were not Turks at all, but French native soldiers
who had been taken prisoners during the Gallipoli campaign. These
soldiers, being Mahommedans, were soon turned into Turkish soldiers.
The Turks treated them well, put them into Turkish uniforms, and now
they fight against the French!
Tall and well-dressed German soldiers were on duty everywhere. A
lot has been written about old men, belonging to the Landsturm, and
boys, being taken prisoners on the Western front, but the Germans
are not sending this class of men to the Near East. Their army in
Constantinople consists of really first-class troops. It has been
stated by the Salonika correspondent of _The Times_ that there are
50,000 troops in Constantinople. That number may have passed through
the city. In my opinion, arrived at after careful calculation, the
number of German soldiers actually in Constantinople may be put down at
about 10,000.
When I was in Constantinople eight months previously there was
comparative gaiety in the city. It is extraordinary to see the
difference that has been made by the absence of electricity and gas.
It has at once closed theatres, cafés, kinemas, and all other places
of amusement. Nearly all the shops are closed. With the cutting off of
the coal supply the whole life of the city has thus been destroyed. In
London there is at least some light, but in Constantinople the only
means of getting about at night is by the aid of electric torches, the
very smallest of which cost me 8s.
The condition of affairs in the city approached famine; the electric
tramway service, as far as the public is concerned, has practically
come to a standstill. I took careful note of the prices of necessaries;
sugar is 5s. a pound, coffee 6s. a pound, and cigarettes have been
advanced by 40 per cent. Anyone who knows Turkey will understand
what this means for a people that smokes practically all day long.
Matches are 3d. a box. The stock of paraffin oil has been exhausted,
likewise that of chocolate, and all cheese, save the horrible Turkish
variety, is no longer procurable. Mutton has advanced 40 per cent. in
price and beef is not to be had. The small Turkish eggs, which used
to cost one farthing each eight months ago, are now twopence each.
Soap is ridiculously expensive, but the Turk does not suffer much in
consequence! There is very little rice, but fish, of course, is as
plentiful as ever, thanks to the unique situation of Constantinople.
Despite all these difficulties and inconveniences, the German
War-Machine seems to move with its customary precision. If the Turkish
citizen goes short of food the German private soldier gets his full
ration every day. This is as it should be, according to the German view.